Saga - Chapter 29, Part 1
Content - Saga is a Brokeback AuAu fic taking place in the Viking era (Scandinavia, ca AD 850). This chapter is rated PG-13, and is ca 6,900 words long.
Disclaimer - The original Ennis and Jack who inspired this fic do not belong to me, but to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry and Focus Features. I intend no disrespect and make no profit.
A/Ns - Links to previous chapters follow after the cut. Explanations of names and terms follow after each chapter. Thank you to Soulan for thorough betaing of this chapter.
Links to all previous chapters are available here: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/43336.html
Saga - Chapter 29
Sigrid came out into the yard herself to greet the little party of riders.
“Einnis,” she said, looking up at her silent brother with a serious expression and worry in her eyes. “I had not expected to see you here…”
She looked at the people in Einnis’s company, the two small children, the woman who wore simple thrall’s clothing, the two men.
“I bid you all welcome,” she said formally, hiding her thoughts behind a neutrally gracious smile. She signaled to one of her servant women and the approaching stable thrall, telling them to show her brother’s companions to the servants’ quarters, and to stable their horses.
Einnis got off his horse, loosened his small travel pack from its ties behind the saddle, and watched the horse being led away. Tekla curtsied nervously to Sigrid, and turned with Freidis held close in her arms to follow the others. Einnis spoke gruffly to Tekla’s departing back. “When you’ve had food and Freidis has been fed too, take her into the main hall, please”. She turned her head and nodded, then continued on her way.
Sigrid laid her hand on Einnis’s arm. “Torgeirr is off at a neighbor’s, talking through some trading they’re planning, but he’ll be back tonight. Follow me, brother. You look as if you need something to fortify you.”
They walked together to the bench by the High Seat, Sigrid briefly stopping to order ale and food brought for her brother. He sat down, looking straight ahead impassively, his face pale, hollow-eyed and disinterested.
“Einnis, what has happened?” Sigrid asked, her voice low. “One week ago we heard tell that Arna had returned to her father’s, a divorced woman and a wealthy one. And since then we’ve heard several different tales as to why she left. It seemed obvious to me that there was no truth to any of it, but I didn’t know what to believe, and was hoping from a message from you. I hadn’t expected that you yourself would carry it.”
Einnis shrugged, the merest little movement of his shoulders. He didn’t turn his head to meet her eyes. “It’s true. Arna has divorced me, and she took little-Arna when she left. She… had her reasons. I will say no more, even to you. I will not contest her. My honor is in ruins.” His whole body slumped and he bowed his head.
Sigrid stared at him, aghast. She opened her mouth to speak, but held her peace when a servant stepped up to them with a bowl of ale and a platter of bread, meat and cheese for Einnis. Indicating that they wished to be left alone, Sigrid waited till the woman had retreated, and turned back to her brother.
Einnis glanced at the food. “I am not hungry,” he said wearily.
“Einnis, I do not understand this at all,” Sigrid said plainly. “If you do not want to talk to me, why have you come here?”
Einnis didn’t respond, and after a moment Sigrid leaned back against the wall, patiently giving him time. She lifted the bowl to drink, and offered it to her brother, who hesitated but eventually accepted it. Einnis drank a deep strong draught, and then another. He closed his eyes. Sigrid waited.
After a while movement caught her eye, and she turned from her brother to see a woman approaching the two of them, walking slowly and tentatively. Sigrid studied her and nodded.
“Tekla, is it not? I recognize you from before I married. And now you’ve already got two children. What is it?”
Tekla cast a nervous glance at Einnis. “I’ve only got one, mistress Sigrid. A fine boy. This little one is Freidis Einnisdottir. I am her wet-nurse.”
Sigrid sat up, surprised. Einnis lifted his head.
“Give Freidis to my sister, Tekla, and leave us. The child will be in good hands here, you need have no fears for her.”
Tekla did as ordered, carefully and somewhat reluctantly placing the quiet and well-fed child in Sigrid’s arms. Sigrid looked down at the little girl with a smile in her eyes. “Well met, little kinswoman! What a fine girl she is, Einnis! She looks much like you, I’m thinking.”
Einnis made a dismissive gesture. “I much rather hope she will be like you, Sigrid. This now is why I am here. I want to ask you and Torgeirr to be the legal caretakers of my farmholdings till my two daughters come of age, and to foster Freidis - treat her as if she were your own. I know she will have a good life here.”
“Einnis!” Sigrid exclaimed, looking from him to the swaddled child in her lap and back. “Yes, of course we will happily foster Freidis. But have you truly thought this through? Would you live apart from both your daughters? Why do you need someone to take care of your properties?”
“I cannot stay at the farm anymore, Sigrid,” Einnis said. “I am leaving. I’m leaving the country. I’m going away.”
“To do what? Going where? Will you be going raiding?”
“Don’t nag at me, sister! I’m tired of questions and curious talk. Enough! Leave me be!”
Sigrid was silent. She sat holding her niece, rocking the child gently in her lap, looking down at the sleeping little face, her own expression softening in response. Eventually she spoke again, but now seemed oddly brief and even dismissive.
“You may of course do as you please, Einnis, and neither Torgeirr nor I will meddle in your affairs beyond that which you ask us to do. I shall have to speak with Torgeirr and learn his mind, but I am certain he will agree to your request. Neither Torgeirr nor I can be two places at once, though. Therefore all I ask is that you remain here with us till we have settled and agreed how our ancestral farm is to be managed and protected on a day to day basis while you’re gone. We must find trustworthy caretakers. That much I think you owe both our ancestors, the memory of our parents, and your own two daughters.”
Einnis shrugged, looking away from her, seeming for all the world to think that the conversation was tedious and of small interest to him. “As you wish, Sigrid. I am in no great hurry, but neither do I want to linger here, an idle houseguest for your servants to speculate about.”
Sigrid said no more. Soon thereafter she had Tekla sent for to come get Freidis, and herself lighted Einnis to the room she had had prepared for him, and which he would have to himself, a rare luxury that he did not see fit to mention. Einnis walked slowly behind her, much like a sleepwalker, his face devoid of emotions. He told her goodnight in a distant voice, fell into bed fully dressed, and was soon sleeping heavily.
That evening as Torgeirr returned, Sigrid waited till they could retire, and in the privacy of their bed they spoke long into the night. The next morning Torgeirr sent one of his most trusted men south with an urgent message. Sigrid too spoke with the man before he left, and husband and wife both stood watching him galloping out of the yard.
“Are you sure this is wise?” Torgeirr asked.
Sigrid shook her head slowly. “No. But I have to try. It is a gamble, and my last resort.”
Torgeirr wordlessly pulled his wife close in a comforting embrace for a moment. When he eventually left her, Sigrid turned back to stare at the gate that their messenger had left by.
“I wish you a safe journey, and more than that, a happy and speedy return!” she whispered. She remained standing in front of the main hall for a while, lost in thought, looking dignified as always in her farm mistress finery, though there was a sad air to her bearing.
Torgeirr delayed his own long-planned journey to Kaupang till they’d had news from the south, and tried his best to curb his impatience. His considerable trading activities in town needed his attention, but he didn’t want to leave until this clan upheaval had been settled. Taking care of the clan’s farms was the most important task for any master or local lord, no matter the trading or raiding he otherwise spent his time on.
As the days went by, Einnis had very little to say for himself. He rarely strayed from his room, slept a lot both by night and by day, ate sparely and answered Sigrid in surly monosyllables when she tried to pull him into conversation. Nevertheless she made an effort to visit him often, and brought Freidis along when she could, talking to the little girl and singing to her, a mixture of the happy and haunting songs she remembered from her own childhood.
Both Torgeirr and Sigrid were delighted about their little foster-daughter, and so was Sverri. He proudly thought himself a bigger boy now he had a smaller sister to care for.
---
Eoin’s wound was healing slowly and surely, and he was increasingly impatient with mistress Ragnhild’s adamant insistence that he stay near the house, that he not exert himself in any way, and that he should rest frequently on his bench. He did take a few short walks down to Gunnar’s house to see that everything was in order there. Wild horses could not have dragged out of him how tired those short walks made him. Yet he was getting stronger day by day, and chafed at the lack of tidings from the north.
Ragnhild seemed to share his concern. Eoin overheard her talking to one of her young kinswomen. “I wonder very much why Torgeirr has not arrived. His ships are here, and the trading is brisk along the wharfs. He intended to come to town, but something must have happened. I hope we’ll soon have news.”
Her son-in-law had not yet traveled north, having been delayed by the somewhat premature birth of his second daughter. Now mother and child were both doing reasonably well. He was once more planning his departure when news from the north finally arrived.
Torgeirr’s messenger rode up while everyone was sitting at the evening meal, Eoin among the servants on the benches away from the hearth, and Ragnhild in the modest mistress’s high seat. The man quickly introduced himself and bowed to Ragnhild.
“I carry messages from Torgeirr Haraldson to you, mistress, and I also carry an urgent message from Sigrid Elmarsdottir to Jaran the Irish woodcarver. Do you know where he is to be found?”
Eoin was up from his bench and across the floor before anyone had the chance to respond. “I am Jaran,” he said hurriedly. “What message do you carry?”
The man looked briefly to Ragnhild. As she nodded he turned to Eoin. “Sigrid Elmarsdottir sends word to you and bids you return to her husband’s clan seat in all haste if you may, on a matter most urgent. She bid me tell you she is speaking on behalf of her brother, who is now staying at their farm.”
Eoin drew a breath. “Einnis Elmarson is alive and well?” he asked, speaking slowly and almost hesitantly now, his lashes sweeping down to hide his eyes.
“He is certainly alive - I saw him myself as he rode up. Though much has been said and more hinted at about the reasons for his divorce, no-one seems to know anything for sure. It has not yet led to feuding with Mjod, as far as I know.”
“Divorce?” Ragnhild said sharply, casting a glance at the many curious faces turned their way. “Come outside with me, the both of you. This is better spoken of in private.”
Though Eoin’s face had looked pale ever since his grave injury, now he looked worse. He followed without a word.
As soon as they were out of earshot the man took up his tale, giving them further details about Einnis and Arna’s divorce, though he knew very little for sure and most seemed to be hearsay. Nevertheless his message from Torgeirr was that the Elmarson farm was in immediate need of a capable and strong mistress to manage the considerable household now that Arna was gone. They would therefore like Ragnhild to consider once more taking over that responsibility.
Eoin listened in silence, his heart beating so hard and fast that the sound of pounding was in his ears. He was relieved when Ragnhild readily accepted Torgeirr’s request. She was used to being the mistress of a large farm, and longed to use her skills in a household larger than the small clan town house as a mere helper to her daughter. Eoin for his part made it clear that he would most willingly do as Sigrid requested, and as quickly as could be arranged. They would both be riding north.
--
Eoin would have given everything to have been able to fly north like a raven. Instead he had to plod north on an old, trusty woman’s horse that could not be startled, and which would not take off even if the Fenris wolf was to appear by its side, red maws gaping. Eoin’s barely healed wound and his impaired health would not support brisk riding, Ragnhild had informed him tersely. If he wanted to kill himself, there were easier ways, she had said, her eyes going meaningfully to the rack of swords by the door. She most certainly wouldn’t be riding along for the thrill of seeing him fall dead from his horse when his wound broke open.
And so they both rode north at an easy and slow pace, accompanied by Ragnhild’s son-in-law, Torgeirr’s messenger, and one additional man-at-arms that Ragnhild insisted on.
His companions had scarce cheer from Eoin on the road. He spoke little to them and then only distractedly, his thoughts constantly racing ahead, wondering what had compelled Sigrid to send for him, pondering what he’d find at journey’s end - happiness or despair. It seemed to him that they were crawling along at a slug’s pace, and day by day his sense of urgency grew, and his impatience, worry and longing likewise.
When they finally arrived at their destination, Eoin was weary to the bone. The long journey and tense worrying had taxed his already diminished strength, and he nearly fell from his horse, pale and drawn.
Sigrid, who had come outside to greet them, took one look at him and ordered him first of all to get a good night’s rest. “I am grateful that you heeded my wish and came back to us, Jaran, but it will do no-one any good if you collapse on my doorstep. My brother Einnis is sleeping. You should do the same. Let us hope tomorrow will bring good counsel and new hope.”
Despite the protest that rose from the very core of his being, Eoin admitted to himself that she was right. He smiled wanly and gratefully to Muirenn, who had come into the yard to see him arrive, and let her help him to a sleeping bench that had been prepared. After having spoken briefly with her in Gaelic he bent his head in a fervent evening prayer, asking for strength and grace. Then he fell into deep, healing sleep, lost in the calm assurance of what was surely meant to be.
And so, at long last, the next morning Eoin stepped over the threshold to Einnis’s room. Sigrid had spoken to him briefly while she herself led him to her brother, fixing him with a nearly pleading gaze. She had called him Einnis’s friend, but told him little more than that she had sent for him in the hope that he might be able to cheer her troubled brother, describing Einnis’s state of mind as briefly and honestly as possible.
Now Eoin stood quietly right inside the dim room, his every sense alert, his eyes unerringly seeking out the still form on the bench in the corner, relief and tenderness flooding his heart and voice now he’d reached his goal in time.
“Einnis…. Einnis, can you hear me?”
A shudder went through Einnis from top to toe, and his arm came up to protect his eyes.
“No!” he said, and turned over on the bench, his back to the room and the man standing there.
Undeterred, Eoin slowly stepped closer. “Einnis. You know who it is. Are you displeased? Won’t you look at me?”
“Go away! Eoin, I can’t…. I won’t… Not again…I’m done with all this!”
Eoin stepped right up and sat down on the edge of the bench, a mere inch from touching Einnis.
“I’m not going away,” he said. “Einnis, are you ill?”
Einnis didn’t respond. His whole body hunched in on itself, tense and still, like a frightened hedgehog bristling with the desperate desire to be left alone. Eoin was not fazed. He looked down at Einnis and tried to get his breath and his thoughts and his own wildly thumping heart under control before he spoke again.
“I’m not going anywhere. You might as well look at me.” Carefully he placed a hand on Einnis’s right shoulder, squeezing it in a gentle grip. “Einnis, I’m right here.”
Suddenly all resistance seemed to leave Einnis, and he slumped, dull and deflated. With great effort he turned back over on the bench, sat up and at last looked Eoin in the eye.
“Eoin,” he whispered, barely audible. He drew a breath. “Eoin, you should not be here, so near me. If anyone sees, it is dangerous,” he entreated in a rusty, unused voice.
Eoin couldn’t help laughing, a strangely exuberant sound challenging the glum mood and dense air in the dim and fire-less room. “Oh, I know that well enough, never fear. But dire dangers may be lurking anywhere. I’d rather face them next to you. We are stronger together.”
He reached out to take Einnis’s limp hands in his own, his thumbs rubbing the chill skin. “Are you ill, Einnis?” he asked once more.
Einnis’ hands remained slack in his. “No. No, I’m not ill, I’m just tired.” His shoulders drooped and his voice was very small. “Arna has divorced me. She’s taken little-Arna away! And all her goods are gone, and much of mine. I’ve been shamed before the whole world, but I can do nothing about it unless I want to face even worse dishonor.”
Einnis looked up in sudden agony, his eyes tormented. “My life is over, having lost all that I strived so hard and long to build! My honor is gone, and my clan in ruins. The only thing that could be worse…. The only thing…” He drew a breath, the brief fire dying out of him like a spark snuffed by a storm blast. “… but you’re alive, thank the Norns,” he concluded bleakly.
“And so are you, despite everything,” Eoin whispered, squeezing Einnis’s hands encouragingly. But Einnis only shook his head mutely, looking away.
Eoin held on. “I am very sorry about little-Arna, Einnis. I know how much you love her. I know how much it must hurt. I wish I could change it so she could be with you… but I can’t. Yet your other little daughter is right here, and healthy and strong from what Muirenn tells me, and Sigrid and Torgeirr are here too. Your clan still cares for you. It is not in ruins. Why do you think Sigrid sent for me? More than anything she wants you to live. She doesn’t want you to deliberately throw your life away in some senseless battle abroad.”
Einnis looked back at Eoin, his eyes going wide. “Sigrid sent for you? Why…why would she…? Why you? Oh, Tor, no!”
The panic and fear in his eyes were plain to see, and Eoin firmed his hold on Einnis’s nervous hands. “Einnis, your sister wants only the best for you. It’s long since she realized we share a close friendship. Did you believe she would just put the valuable gift of the golden cross out of her mind? Do you doubt her sincerity?”
Einnis hook his head slowly, calming down. “No, I would trust Sigrid more than anyone, except you,” he said, his voice low. “I would trust her with my life. I value her opinion. I’ve always been closer to her than to anyone else in my family. That’s why I know… I know there is one thing she would not ever be able to forgive, or forget. She is proud, and she trusts me to act with honor in all things. I have always wanted to live up to that, I have tried and tried, but… I failed.”
Eoin dropped Einnis’s hands and looked him in the eye.
“So you could defend it to yourself to meet me in secret,” he said sharply, “but as soon as anyone found out, like your wife obviously did, then suddenly all your honor has been lost, and your dignity is shattered, and your will to live with it? Is that how you value me, and what we share?”
Einnis didn’t rise to take the bait, but single-mindedly stayed in the same rut as before, avoiding Eoin’s eyes. “Yes. It is shameful, and nothing you can say or do will change that, Eoin. We shouldn’t…. I shouldn’t be like this. I have lost my pride. Honor lies in acting so that others speak well of you while you live, and after you’ve died. Now they will all jeer in disgust when they speak of me - but if I seek death courageously in battle, they will at least say I died with honor. That is all there is left now.”
Continued in Chapter 29, Part 2: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/49239.html